


Rest Upon Reciprocity

by greyheart



Category: Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick give it to him, Dissociation, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, M/M, Manipulation, Non-Consensual Touching, Past Abuse, Slade Needs a Hug, Slade Wilson Being an Asshole, Slade gives him one anyway, Sub Dick Grayson, Subdrop, Trust, but not from Slade, what is Slade Wilson?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:28:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29184030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyheart/pseuds/greyheart
Summary: While out on patrol, Nightwing finds Deathstroke in a very compromising and vulnerable position, one that, with what he's knows about the mercenary, shouldn't even be possible. Dick had never been someone who would take advantage of others at their weakest...so what is he going to do?Way late entry for SladeRobin Week 2020: Day 1 Dom/Sub World
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 103
Collections: SladeRobin Week 2020





	Rest Upon Reciprocity

**Author's Note:**

> So very late but finally here. SladeRobin Week 2020: Day 1 Dom/Sub World 
> 
> Holy crap, this was not supposed to be this long, seriously.
> 
> In this world, people are not just designated as a Sub, Dom, or Switch. They determine a ten-point range for everyone, from 1-100, doms giving their lowest number and subs giving their highest, and then specific categories for highest or lowest numbers.
> 
> 1-10: Base Dom (ya know, dommy doms, others must submit)  
> 11-40: Dom  
> Highest# 45-49: Borderline Dom  
> Lowest#(41-49)-Highest#(51-59): Switches  
> 50: Anomaly   
> Lowest# 51-55: Borderline Sub  
> 60-89: Sub  
> 90-100: Prime Sub (trash talk being “You want to go down so bad, I bet you’re a Prime”)

Nightwing sighed in frustration when he arrived at the building and found three dead bodies. Damn it. It was only a hit, so Slade was probably long gone. Dick had to admit, it was actually an impressive job. The shades were drawn, so he must have used an infrared scope. But it also looked like they had used some extra material hung over the windows to muddle those readings up.

Dick made his way to where he figured Slade had set up his nest. No matter what, he was too late to do anything. Not that he would mourn these dead too much. He was willing to do everything he could to prevent unnecessary death and if he had been here he would have given it his all to stop Slade, but these people were part of a trafficking ring, morality wise, some of the worst of the worst, taken out by competitors. The only sleep Dick would lose would be determining the new players that would be taking their place.

The nest was clear, Dick would have been surprised if he had found anything, Slade was one of the best after all.

This was an older part of the city, had fewer police patrols, more questionable clubs and alleyway deals; the alleys, creating a near labyrinth if you weren’t familiar with the area. He was three blocks away, moving to the east, checking the more frequented alleys, when he heard it.

“Pretty big for a sub, aren’t you? Bet you like it rough.”

Nightwing’s hackles rose and he ran to the edge overlooking one of the more dark corners of the alley where he could barely make out the figures below, one standing above the other.

“How about I-”

Dick lept from the building as a strangled gurgling cut the dom off, landing on the ground at the same time as the dom’s now lifeless body, blood flowing freely from the near decapitated neck.

He adjusted his stance, taking a step back as he reassessed the situation, hands going to his escrima sticks even as he recognized Slade, the darkness of the alley meaning little at this distance. 

Dick’s hands paused, keeping the sticks sheathed as he took in the state of the mercenary, and the wrongness of the situation had his heart racing. Labored breathing seemed louder than it should have been, even with Slade’s helmet discarded close to Dick’s feet, along with half of his armor and weapons.

Instead of reaching for any of the weapons, Slade began to crawl in the opposite direction, bloodied knife discarded.

_...the hell?_ Dick struggled to put together what was going on. Even with everything he was seeing, how could that man have mistaken Slade for a sub? There were few Dick had encountered in his life that were more obviously a dom than Deathstroke.

“Slade?”

The man stopped crawling and after a beat let out a humorless laugh, “Of course.”

Making his way around the corpse, Dick hesitated before crouching down in front of Slade.

The mercenary barely lifted his head, made no defensible movements, wouldn’t make eye contact, his head moving almost listlessly back and forth. …

Dick’s eyes widened. _Holy shit._

He was fighting off a sub drop.

Dick actually shook his head. No. No, Slade wasn’t a sub. He knew this. His up close and personal experience with the man was enough to convince him. It was as good as fact. And sure, people could play different dynamics, Dick himself was proof of that, but, no. Slade’s dynamic testing records may have been destroyed but he was clearly, at least, a 12. You couldn’t fake that low, not for as long as he had been around.

Slade was obviously in distress and even more obviously pissed about it. Well, obvious to Dick, but he had spent more time around the man than most had ever been allowed.

“What happened? Why- are you alright?”

Slade laughed again, head still turned away, “The brave dom, come to help the poor helpless sub?”

Even in a crouch, Dick almost took a step back. He knew Slade was being sarcastic, but still, that fact that he would even say something like that, even imply that when they both knew...

“You’re not a sub.”

Slade finally looked at him, and holy hell.

_He’s not a sub._ Dick repeated to himself. He’s dropping. Not dom dropping, that would have created entirely different problems right now. This was a sub drop. _He’s not a sub._

“Yet, here we are.”

“Did you get hit with something?”

It was the only thing that could explain this. But the only person he knew with a drug like that was Poison Ivy and as far as he knew she was still very much in Gotham and never shared that particular formula with anyone. Not that the effects on doms didn’t amuse her, but raising a doms range that high and so quickly? They usually turned violent with any sub they came across and she cared enough for subs that she would only use the substance in a controlled setting.

Slade took a deep, labored breath, “21. 31.”

It sounded like a range, a very normal range, but people only tended to say one number, the base for a dom and the prime for a sub. The range didn’t even sound right for Slade, too high. Dick was still mulling over the numbers as Slade continued.

“79.”

Dick blinked. What? Ranges weren’t three numbers.

“79,” Slade repeated.

The man must have hit his head or something. “That’s not possible,” Dick insisted. 

“Yet, here we are.” Slade’s voice was clipped and he was only able to hold eye contact for a second more before it began jumping around again.

Dick knew the basic ten-point range was to keep things organized, that people could have a longer or shorter range, but...that was a 48 point difference. 58 if you went by the base number. 58.

That couldn’t be real. That level of imbalance...Dick’s mind turned unbidden to Joker.

Bruce had a few theories about the rogue. There weren’t any records of his range, much like Slade. Official ranges were usually taken during puberty but the data couldn’t be collected with a simple blood sample, the variabilities had to be monitored over a period of time. Whenever a reading was attempted with Joker, either people died or data was destroyed. So all Bruce had were theories. There were records of other mentally unstable people with unusually wide ranges or ones that would occasionally have a chemical release opposing their designation, leading to erratic behavior. Nothing even as significant as the Joker but it led Bruce to the theory the clown had a significant outliner marker or he was a 50 with erratic chemical releases.

Jason hated this theory, mainly because he himself was a 50. At least, he was after he came out of the Lazarus Pit. People with no chemical markers or inclination in any direction were designated 50s. One number, no range. Not a sub, not a dom, not even a switch.

Being a 50 was difficult enough without potentially trying to cope with random chemical releases.

If what Slade was saying was true...who else knew? Why was he even telling Dick? The more that knew the higher risk of a potential weakness being exposed.

“I…” Slade’s bare hand pressed into the pavement, rubbing back and forth, “Have a dose at my safehouse.”

Dick scoffed at the very notion, “No way,” he denied, “You’re too far gone. Even if you had a chemical dose right now it wouldn’t stop the drop, it would only make it worse.”  
Slade’s lip curled back, “I’ll be fine.”

This was crazy, “Slade, how long have you been fighting this off? I don’t know how it works for you but subs can’t rely on drugs long term, they have to go down at some point, and the fact that you are even using drop suppressors or regulators and you’re in this state? You’d never miss a dose, so I’m going to assume, like a sub, they aren’t effective for you after a point.”

He paused, waiting for some kind of denial but only saw Slade’s shoulders pull in.

“You need to go down.”

Slade’s smile was an incomplete snarl, “Are you volunteering to put me down?”

Dick’s throat tightened. Was that what he was doing? Why was he even still here? He should be calling a dom to take care of this, his instincts were screaming at him to do it.

But then what?

Dick didn’t know just how dangerous Slade could be in this state. He was a meta. He was a Dom! Dick didn’t have a reliable base to go off of for this situation. Subs in distress, especially ones at the edge of an uncontrolled drop needed a dom they could trust to help them down. 

Bruce was...well he was a good dom, but not the best at aftercare or the behavior needed to comfort a, already dropping sub. Batman was capable of handling those emergencies in the field but he was also a symbol to fear. So those situations usually fell on Robin’s shoulders.

Everyone liked Robin, he was safe. Dick had helped people down or up or to level out countless times. He wasn’t worried about skill. That wasn’t the problem.

Dick stared at Slade, at the tremors and erratic breathing that were getting worse.

_“You’re only hurting yourself at this point, little bird. Just give in.”_

_He pulled against Slade’s grip at the base of his neck, “No,” he said, wincing when it came out as a whine instead of a growl. He couldn’t stop shaking. He’d been tied in this position for hours now, arms behind his back, knees secured to a spreader bar, the collar around his neck chained to the ground and ceiling, preventing him from getting up or lying down. Keeping him on his knees. Forced submission._

_Bruce had trained him for this, but it had never been this intense, a part of him had always known he was safe._

_Now though...Slade was the only reason he hadn’t slipped down yet. The man had figured out Robin wasn’t a dom but had still incorrectly labeled him as a switch. He was using duel techniques to throw him off balance._

_Dick would get so close to dropping, only to right himself when Slade began the dom tricks. He was still up, barely. But he felt so dizzy from the varying drop hormones, he’d already thrown up once._

Dick had eventually gone down and his memories of it consisted of moments of either hyper perception or muddled grays. It was an experience he would never forget, having his biology being manipulated and used against him. But…

Dick continued to stare at the kneeling man. The purpose behind dropping Robin was to test his obedience in that state, and Slade had tested it all, in every way except sexual.

He had never touched Dick that way, not a brush of his hand or a kiss. Nothing.

It didn’t erase what he had done but it did mean something to Dick that he never crossed that line. Maybe Slade would have if Dick had been older but that still showed a level of morality Dick hadn’t known the man possessed. There were enough dom criminals that didn’t care about the age of a sub or switch.

But, apparently, Slade wasn’t just a dom, was he?

Slade huffed a laugh at Dick’s hesitance, then made an angry growl as Dick grabbed him and threw him over his shoulder. He didn’t actively attack Dick though, so that was something at least.

“What are you-”

“Shut up before I change my mind.”

Jeez, he was heavy, not surprising, the guy was huge. Dick should have taken off the rest of the body armor but it didn’t feel like there was enough time, not with the way Slade was shaking.

Dick started sprinting as he shot out a grapple line, then, as it pulled tight, began running sideways along the wall, following the retraction as far as he could with Slade’s added weight. At the top of his arc, he pulled out his spare line and hooked it into the building across the street, while the other retracted. 

This would be a whole lot more fun if it didn’t feel like his arm was trying to rip out of its socket.

After a few more blocks of careful maneuvering and he landed on the roof of one of his safehouses, not bothering to rappel down, the fire escape was just as fast at this point. Opening the false brick, he typed in the code and opened the window when the lock disengaged.

The apartment was simple enough. Studio floor plan, smaller than the size of his room at the manor, perfect for its purpose.

Carefully, he set Slade down on the couch- no, that’s right. This one was too small for a couch and only had a bed. No time to dwell on that, he laid Slade down and, yep, still conscious and looking very pissed off.

“Just a second okay, I just need to-“

After securing the window he moved to the kitchen area, turned on the soft overhead stove light, and threw a couple of hand towels in the sink, he’d get those wet in a minute. Opening the cupboards, he sighed when he only found a few random cans. 

Pickled beets? Who the hell put that in there? Pineapple tidbits. Better. Expired four months ago…less okay but still usable, as long as it didn’t smell weird. He really needed to restock his safehouses.

He went on autopilot the next two minutes, turning on the heater, wetting the hand towels, and throwing one in the mini-fridge/freezer, along with half the pineapple from the can.

Grabbing the towel and fruit he turned and froze.

Slade hadn’t moved from where Dick had dropped him on the bed, still sprawled out and shaking. Dick had never seen him more vulnerable.

_He’s a dom falling into an uncontrolled sub drop_. What the hell was Dick thinking? He should call for help, get an actual dom in here to take care of this. But, Dick couldn’t believe that Slade was so far gone that Dick could have gotten him here with so little fuss without the man allowing it. Dick couldn’t bring anyone else here without putting them in danger and he also couldn’t think of anyone else close enough that the mercenary would trust to help, and that felt overwhelming. 

Dick was the only one who could do this.

Placing the items on the bedside table, Dick moved around the bed to Slade’s feet and began taking off his boots. They would need to go back to the alley and get his discarded pieces, but as it was, the rest of this would need to come off now as well, and the fact that Slade had been taking it all off out in the open like that was proof enough.

One boot was off when Slade’s upper body came up in a flash, a hand reaching out for Dick and missing but, as he tipped forward, off-balance, the other hand latched onto Dick’s neck and held him steady. The grip was solid and Dick wondered how difficult it was for the man to focus enough to hold on. Slade was deadly in normal circumstances and a drop wouldn’t change that but it at least gave Dick an upper hand to work from. 

It was clear that eye contact would be nearly impossible now. Dick could tell the man was fighting the drop with all he had but he was far past the point of no return, his skin turning an ashen color. They’d be lucky if he made it through this without throwing up.

“Slade,” he tried, “Look at me.” 

He wanted to, Dick could tell but, instead, the stubborn bastard turned his head away. Dammit. He really wasn’t going to make this easy was he?

“Slade, look at me,” he demanded, earning a side glance, “We’re going to work through this together, alright? But you’re going to have to let go...figuratively and literally.”

Slade shook his head, flinching away while his grip tightened on Dick’s neck.

Nonverbal was not good.

Dick reached up and gently placed his hands on the arm holding his neck, “Slade, if you don’t let me help you, you’re going to crash and I won’t be able to get you back up. I’ll have to take you to a hospital and even then, by that point, they may not be able to help you either. A natural controlled drop is the only way to go at this stage.”

Was Slade even following this?

“Slade,” he said, forcefully, “Eyes.”

Slade’s head snapped up.

_Good._ “Good,” he praised, “Now, who am I?”

There was a moment of confused hesitance where his eyes narrowed, before he replied, “Grayson.”

Dick nodded, “Yes. Would I take advantage of this situation?”

Slade’s brow furrowed.

“Would I hurt you like this?”

Slade blinked, “No.”

Dick’s chest warmed reflexively at the quick response.

“That’s right. Can you trust me to help you?”

The grip on his throat loosened, “Yes.”

“Good, say it again. Who am I?”

“Grayson.”

“Can you trust me?”

“Yes.” Slade’s hand dropped back to the bed.

“Say it.”

“I…” Slade looked right at him, unwavering, for the first time that night, “I can trust you.”

Well, shit.

Holding back his nerves, Dick helped Slade lay back down, “Okay. We’ll repeat that whenever we need to, but right now, I’m going to finish taking off your outer clothes alright?”

At Slade’s nod, he made quick work of it, unsurprised to find a compression layer underneath everything. Dick’s suit could work well enough as one on its own but when he hadn’t gone down in a while, he had an even tighter layer he could add on to help tide him over. He was wearing it right now even, just for the comfort.

Speaking of his own suit...his hands hesitated at the clasps.

Skin on skin contact would be vital to get Slade down naturally, there was no way around it. But everything was happening so fast, he could barely remember getting Slade here and now...he couldn’t hesitate, if he did, if he thought too much about what was happening, he might just have a panic attack.

**_You feel better on your knees, don’t you?_ **

His suit was off before he had even finished deciding to continue. There was nothing to decide. If he didn’t do this, there was a good chance Slade could slip into a drop coma and die.

He needed to focus. 

Climbing on the bed next to Slade in nothing but his compression top and underwear, he had to be okay. He couldn’t go into this in a state of panic or high stress, that would just force him to drop along with Slade, and then they both would be screwed.

He moved to the head of the bed, so he could lean against the wall, pulling Slade with him. “I want you to get on your knees and put your head in my lap.”

Slade’s eye was completely unfocused now, his breathing turning erratic.

Dick slid his fingers through the man’s hair and gave it a light tug, “Slade,” he cautioned, “who am I?”

_Come on, come on._

“Grayson.” He was so close to the edge. Each word was forced out in gasps. “I. can. trust. you.”

Slade shifted onto his knees and laid his head in Dick’s lap.

This would never not be surreal. 

“Good,” Dick praised, keeping his voice firm. There could be no hint of condescension, nothing Slade’s dom brain could take the wrong way.

He tightened his grip and Slade’s eye fluttered. Yeah, he’d figured that would work for him. What a thin line to walk.

Subs caring for other subs during drops was already a delicate situation that could have serious consequences, ones Dick had never had to worry about before. When he had helped civilians, it had always been a short term situation that was quickly handed off to professionals. 

It wasn’t something openly talked about, the exploitation of dynamics, but Dick knew it was common in human trafficking and POW camps. Doms, in situations where they were forced to sub for each other, going against their very nature, often bred resentment and created fractures in military units, while subs, acting as doms for other subs out of necessity, unintentionally created bonds in biochemical feedback loops.

Dick didn’t need to worry about that though. He would help Slade out, get him to the point where he was safe, and then leave.

The safehouse was burnt, so he could just leave him here. No problem.

Dick kept his hand moving through Slade’s hair, getting a painfully tight grip then moving on to another spot. His other hand was scratching over his arms and back, using his nails as much as possible.

Dick had always enjoyed it when Bruce had done that for him, holding him close, all the while whispering praises to him. A praise kink felt so cliche to have but nothing else worked as well to help him down. He had never been one for pain or degradation and, luckily, that was mostly what Slade had had for him. He had taken the term _forced down_ literally and had used actual force to try and get Dick down. It was true that the treatment would eventually work on any sub but it had been so opposed to what worked for Dick that Slade had almost lost his composure for how long it had taken to get him down. Maybe he had actually lost it near the end. Dick didn’t remember. Slade had finally decided on the less subtle endorphin rush of an intense beating to take Dick down. Even then, Slade didn’t realize it was him, forcing his head up by grabbing his hair, the familiar feeling, that had finally tipped him over. It all became a haze after that. 

How much time had passed? Slade’s shaking had lessened considerably, that was good.

“Slade, let’s get your shirt off.”

He should be stable enough without it now and the heater had it warm enough that they wouldn’t need to really worry about blankets.

Freeing him from the shirt, Dick froze when Slade dropped easily back into his lap, the weight of his body pinning his legs down, and then wrapped his arms around Dick’s waist.

It was fine. More skin contact. It would help.

His hands slowly went back to work, scratching across his back and Slade shivered beneath him at the contact.

He tried giving more in-depth praises but it only seemed to irritate the mercenary. To be fair they weren’t Dick’s best, he was finding it difficult to think of anything sincere beyond _you’re doing good_. It didn’t feel right to compliment Slade on his most recent hit, as impressive as it was. 

A laugh bubbled out of Dick at the thought. _You’re such an amazing murderer, Slade. No one can splatter someone’s brains over the carpet as well as you. I’ve always been impressed with how well you take care of your weapons._

The laugh died abruptly when Slade’s breath shuddered, his body adjusting over Dick’s legs and he was suddenly aware of a hardness against his leg.

“Hell, no.” 

He didn’t mean to say out loud, but having Deathstroke rubbing himself off on him was pushing Dick further toward hysterics.

He was willing to put up with a lot. Clearly. But this was a hard no. Non-sexual submission only. He would not be helping Slade orgasm, he didn’t care if he was stuck here longer because of it.

Nope.

He knew his grip was painful as he lifted Slade’s head and he didn’t appreciate the reactive moan because of it but it was enough of a distraction to allow him to move his legs to the side and out from under the man.

There, Slade could hump the bed all he wanted. 

In fact, now that Dick wasn’t involved in it, he hoped that Slade finished up soon. The sooner this was done, the sooner he could leave and forget he was stupid enough to put himself in this position in the first place.

Dick stifled a groan as Slade’s grip tightened around his waist, hands seeking the skin under the shirt, and head burrowing deeper into his lap.

This was going to be a long night.

  
  
  
  
  


Slade was out of danger.

Dick repeated this to himself as he finished getting things ready. New wet towel and bowl of pineapple on the bedside table. He’d covered the man in a blanket and had even folded and stacked his belongings at the foot of the bed. It would still be another hour or two before dawn but Dick drew the blackout curtains anyway. He hadn’t bothered with them last night since the window was one-directional, but the rising sun would hit the bed straight on from this angle.

His head suddenly ticked to the side, prompting him to scratch at his arms to release the bottled energy. It wasn’t very satisfying with his compression shirt still on and he began to claw at the sleeves to rid himself of the now near-constant buzzing under his skin.

He’d stayed up all night with Slade, working to control the drop. It had worked out for Slade but despite his best efforts Dick had been tense almost the entire time, any time his guard had dropped another memory of his time with Slade would drift to the top and he had found himself clinging to the man just as tightly back.

Being there hadn’t gotten significantly easier and he had been afraid if he let go he would lose his nerve and run, leaving a vulnerable Slade there alone. He couldn’t do that. He had to stay. He was the only one who could help him.

“Grayson.”

The gruff voice had Dick turning to the bed in surprise. He hadn’t counted on Slade being up yet, he was supposed to be gone by then, not still half-dressed. Not that Slade really looked _up_.

The room was dark but he could still see the man staring blearily in his direction.

He should leave, there was no reason to stay. Slade was fine now.

Right?

He wasn’t a sub but the normal care of subs was all Dick had to go off of. Did the degree of the imbalance have too much of an effect in this situation? 

Dick moved closer to the side of the bed to get a better look. Nothing seemed more concerning than a disgruntled looking Slade with bedhead.

The covers waved, seemingly motioning at him, “Grayson.”

His head ticked again as the buzzing dug in. “I’m right here, what? Are you okay?”

Slade blinked slowly at him, “Dick.”

Sighing, Dick moved closer, “What-”

He yelped as a hand snaked out of the blanket, grabbing his arm and pulling him under the covers. 

It felt sudden but didn’t actually happen all that quickly. Dick’s reaction time was off. He pushed back the panic that wanted him to fight his way out as Slade wrapped himself around Dick. He couldn’t fight someone he’d just helped go down, Slade didn’t even seem fully awake as he pulled Dick close.

“Slade-”

“What are you doing?” he mumbled into the back of Dick’s neck.

What was _he_ doing? What was _Slade_ doing?! He-

Dick blinked at steady breathing behind him. He was asleep?

Dick wiggled around but failed to find any give. Huh. Slade was a cuddler. Who knew?

He must still be more out of it than Dick had thought or there was no way he would be acting this way. It was far too...well, touchy-feely. 

If Slade’s normal range was really what he had said, then that high outliner could explain his more aggressively dominant traits. Dick had covered the sub drop but could that potentially instigate compensating reactions? Slade was holding him back to front, not the way someone would who was still down.

The buzzing had reached the base of his skull and now he couldn’t even try to shake it off. He knew what it meant. He had been telling himself all night that he was fine when, really, the stress of it all kept trying to drag him down. He’d ignored the signs, to help Slade, and now he was trapped.

“Slade.”

Hot breath tingled against his neck and his face felt like it was going numb.

He could handle this, he just needed to get out of here and if Slade was no longer down then Dick didn’t need to be gentle.

“Slade,” he barked, straining against the hold, “Get off, I’m leaving.”

“Hmm?”

He was seriously considering head butting the man, “I’m leaving.”

Slade shifted behind him, the hold loosening but still leaving him caged as the man sat up. There was a moment of stillness, where Dick was able to sit up as well, then Slade turned, taking in the room, before turning back to Dick, his eye narrowing in its scrutiny.

What? What was that look for? Dick didn’t think he could deal with a fully coherent Slade berating his poor dominant skills. He had just saved Slade’s life, yet he probably thought Dick was weak for not leaving his enemy to die in that alley or for not taking advantage of the situation. Nothing was good enough for this guy.

It was never good enough. He couldn’t tell Bruce about this, he would have had a dozen better ways to handle this situation without burning a safe house, without being this close to Slade. He’d just left that dead man in the alley. Slade had slit his throat yet Dick's attention had been solely on the mercenary, he hadn’t even called anyone about the body. What would Bruce think? He’d messed up every step last night and-

The compression shirt was pulled over his head and then back down over his arms in one swift motion, trapping his arms behind him.

Things began to speed up in an instant, a haze he didn’t remember building dropped away. His stomach rolled, he was going to throw up. But he couldn’t, not now, not with Slade…

The man came into focus, something in his hands. When had Dick stopped seeing him? “Slade…”

“Shhh,” he calmed as he finished wrapping his own compression shirt around Dick’s arms and torso and tying it off, “You’re dropping.”

No, he wasn’t. No. He was going to leave before that happened. He couldn’t...not with Slade.

“Get this off of me,” he insisted, far less forcefully than he had intended. Bad, so bad.

“And let you leave in this state? I don’t think so, little bird.”

**_There you are, little bird._ **

“No,” Dick tried to buck the man off his legs, he’d straddled Dick at some point. Shoot, he _was_ dropping. He needed Bruce or Jason or anyone but Slade here right now. “Get off of me,” he snapped, his quickening gasps taking the sting out of it.

“You’re going to be alright, I promise. I’m going to take care of you.”

“No. No, nono.” He couldn’t breathe. He had to leave.

“Grayson, hey,” Slade took his chin in his hand, tilting it toward him. 

Dick didn’t want to look at him. Anywhere else. 

“I’m not going to force myself on you.”

Dick tried to laugh but a sob came out instead. What did he call what he was doing then? He was on top of him. He couldn’t breathe, there wasn’t enough air. The haze was coming back.

“Dick.”

His gaze snapped to Slade. The hand was cupping his cheek now, eye firm. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

But he had already. Captured him. Forced him into servitude. Beat him, forced him down. He couldn’t...he couldn’t...

But Dick wanted to believe him, the pull was there, deep inside, telling Dick that Slade was safe. Why else would Dick have stayed with him, helped him?

No. This was why he was supposed to leave. Slade couldn’t help put him down, not after Dick had already done it for him. It was just a shirt, why couldn’t he get out of it?

There was a sharp tug at the nape of his neck and he leaned into the touch.

Dick believed him. Why? How did Slade look so sincere?

“Say it.”

Dick blinked his eyes open. The world was slowing down again.

His cheek was resting on Slade’s thigh as fingers moved through his hair and scratched his back and arms.

Exactly what he’d done for Slade. Exactly what Dick liked. The panic was muted but it was still there. He’d shown Slade what to do, laid it all out for him, step by step.

“Am I going to hurt you?”

Nails scratched at his skin and it felt so good.

His tongue was heavy, slow to form, “No.”

“Good boy.”

Dick shivered, nuzzling down.

“Anyone else would have left me there or called someone else to take care of it but not you. Never you. You're too good for that, aren’t you?” 

Good? No that wasn’t-

“So strong.”

He didn’t feel strong, he was barely holding on.

“It didn’t matter that you’re a sub yourself or the dangers that that could bring.”

Dimly Dick recognized that Slade wasn’t supposed to know that.

The grip on his neck was painful, yet fingers caressed his side.

“Let go, little bird, I’ve got you.”

He was fine, he could handle this. 

The whispered voice was so close, washing over him, “I had it so very wrong, didn’t I?”

He was being held so tightly.

“I thought someone as strong as you needed to lose the fight but look at you.” His bangs were brushed away, “You need to win.” 

“That makes sense though, doesn’t it? You just want to be good. And in our line of work, that means winning.”

Dick’s head lolled to the side, seeking the missing touch, “Sssll.”

A warm chuckle against his chest, “Even now.” 

Water dripped against his neck and he shivered.

“You did so well, Dick. You knew exactly what to do to help me. I’ve never gone down so well.”

Dick whimpered. Really? He’d tried. It hurt so much but he’d tried.

“You were perfect.”

Perfect. 

Dick floated. 

  
  


A burst of bright and he swallowed at the sweetness in his mouth, opening as more touched his lips. Chased it with his tongue as it mixed with a salty tang.

“...so well.”

  
  


Dick slowly followed the gentle drumming up until he was able to open his eyes.

“There you are.”

Blinking, Dick lifted his head off the bare chest.

Slade was smiling down at him and Dick blinked again, orienting himself.

Dick was laying on top of Slade, still under the covers.

Still?

He thought he remembered sitting up, leaning against Slade.

His shirt was gone, his arms free, and the heat of the room and blanket had created a slick of sweat between them. Everything felt wet, even…

He stilled completely as he recognized a familiar stickiness coating his underwear.

He hadn’t...he rarely indulged in sexual submission. The level of trust needed for him to do that...he wouldn’t have with Slade. Couldn’t have.

“I didn’t touch you, Dick,” Slade reassured, easily reading his expression.

What did he think that meant? He was touching him right now, arms still wrapped around him. Clearly, he meant that hadn’t...Dick was still wearing his underwear but what did that really matter?

“But I didn’t stop you either,” Slade amended with a smirk, “Even I have my limits and I hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing you drop that far down before.”

Swallowing back the lump in his throat, Dick moved to get up, but the arms held firm.

“I was being honest before,” Slade said, catching and holding Dick’s gaze, “I’ve never gone down that well before, or that deep.”

Dick felt raw, stripped bare. What was he supposed to say to that?

“Much like everything else, it was the military experiment that changed me. They wanted a submissive or at least a switch, to better obey. It didn’t work in their favor, obviously.”

“It made you erratic.”

Slade laughed, “More so. I fought the pull to submit, limiting the instances it was necessary. Wintergreen helped me a few times but I’ve mainly taken care of it myself.”

Dick felt a pang of sadness, “That’s not safe.”

“No, it’s not,” Slade agreed, his gaze turning thoughtful, making Dick swallow again.

The hands moved across his back, one traveling up into his hair, and Dick couldn’t help but shiver.

He knew.

Before Slade said anything else, Dick knew what it would be. Helping Slade when he needed to go down. He knew what it meant. But also, he knew what it could potentially help.

He didn’t think about how he wasn’t trying to move away, how he had barely tried before. It felt right to say still, to take comfort in the moment as he continued to lift out of the drop.

He didn’t think about the raw panic he’d felt only a short time ago.

Dick knew before Slade asked, what he would say.


End file.
